To Me Anyway... - Blog Posts

I hate you.

I hate your smile—how weak it makes me.

I hate your eyes—how they see me so clearly.

I hate your touch—how it molds me like clay.

I hate you, but—

Why do I hate anyone who looks at you?

Why do I hate it when you’re sad?

Why do I hate every inch keeping us apart?

I hate how hard your hands grip my heart.

I hate that my soul belongs to you.

I hate—

And hate—

And—

And

GUESS WHOS LUCKY ASS GETS TO GO TO AN ARCTIC MONKEYS CONCERT FOR HER BIRTHDAY